Gavin Yates


As for the Ravages

As for the ravages: sharpened
by your blunt tongue, and meeting again
what’s the fun in separating
then laughing the table clean:

such meaning on clumsy
nuance. The numbers
too high to be numerous
found swooning once

by such volume, the total
length of Capricorn.
The question is a winding stair
to the storm catering for this bouquet:

a slipper that can be worn
by any foot. Nothing comes
to mind but your warm hands
that try to hold me

in place when it’s night,
or heaving cars that keep
you awake the fruitless night
with orchestras of breathing.


Terra Nurse

Fleeting shark lemon
waterfalls, green sunset

gutted fish & dill
permeating the plate—

blue eye abyssal
gleaming with dreams
of sleet. The passenger seat:

she was dressing the
scent of stone

fruit but the season
passed. Geography always
haphazardly falling seeds—

it wasn’t the first time.

I felt the air fold
on itself she went by

as tree-light hit
the windows of passing cars.



Gavin Yates is a doctoral candidate with Monash University. His poetry has featured in Verge and Westerly, among others.